


In the Bag

by JohnAmendAll



Category: Adam Adamant Lives!, Doctor Who
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-24 02:53:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4902781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnAmendAll/pseuds/JohnAmendAll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Searching for his missing sidekick, Adam Adamant becomes involved in the Great Intelligence's attempt to sabotage the Doctor's timeline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Bag

**Author's Note:**

> From a borrowed meme prompt: 'Adam Adamant + Clara Oswald, flying'

"I'm afraid Jones is rather a common name," the well-spoken young lady at the ticket desk said. "You don't know which flight she might have been booked on?" 

"Sadly, I do not." Though he was forcing himself to present a calm demeanour, there was little doubt of Adam Adamant's concern. "Without that information, is there nothing that can be done?" 

She gave him a regretful look. "I don't think there is, sir, unless... Maybe I could go through the boarding registers, and see if there's any record there of your friend travelling with us." 

"If you would, that would be a weight off my mind." 

"Then I'll start at once, sir. If you could come back here in half an hour, I'll let you know if I've found anything. Can I help you with anything else?" 

"I do not think so, no." 

"Then have a nice day, sir." With the sort of poise Adam could only wish Miss Jones might one day learn, the young lady began to arrange the papers set out before her in an orderly stack. 

"Thank you again, Miss Leuppi," Adam said, bowed, and walked away from the Chameleon Tours desk, turning the problem over in his mind. It was possible, of course, that Miss Jones had not come to Gatwick Airport at all. The cabman's description had certainly matched Miss Jones; but it would have equally well covered half-a-dozen of the other people here. Perhaps he had ridden here on no more than a wild goose chase. 

"Hey!" a woman's voice shouted, audible over the roar and bustle of the terminal. "Stop! thief!" 

In the same moment, Adam's attention had been caught by a flash of movement. A man, tall, dark-haired and dressed in a dark business suit, had been walking calmly across the floor. As he passed a young brunette in a blue dress, his arm had suddenly moved — and then he was running across the floor, her handbag tightly grasped in his hand. The girl, still shouting, was giving chase, but it hardly seemed likely that she could catch him. 

Adam, on the other hand, was well-placed to make an interception. Darting between the queuing travellers, he cut across the concourse at a run. The bag-snatcher, who looked as if he'd been trying to open the handbag he'd stolen, looked over his shoulder and realised he was pursued. He turned sharply and dashed up a staircase, taking the steps two at a time. Hunter and prey raced up the stairs and past what appeared to be some kind of refreshment area. Beyond that, the mezzanine narrowed to scarcely more than a balcony, along the wall of the terminal hall. 

The bag-snatcher shot another glance over his shoulder. At the same moment, a door opened ahead of him and another brunette, dressed as the waitresses in the café were, stepped out. She just had time to set eyes on the bag-snatcher and utter an amazed "You!" before the man was on her. To Adam's horror and disgust, the man struck at her; worse, for a split second Adam was sure he saw the gleam of metal in the villain's hand. With a shriek, the woman fell back through the door from which she'd just emerged. 

As quickly as the bag-snatcher had committed his appalling act, it had cost him time he couldn't afford to lose. Before he could recover his lost momentum, a blow from Adam's stick had sent him tumbling. 

"You blackguard," Adam said. He drew his swordstick, and looked down at the wretch. The man was well-dressed, and — Adam would have said — of good family. But his actions had revealed him to be the foulest of criminals. "What manner of harm have you done to that defenceless, beautiful, innocent woman?" 

The bag-snatcher hardly seemed to notice the words. He seemed more concerned to locate the stolen handbag, which lay a few feet along the balcony. As his eyes fell on it, he made a grab for it, but Adam's foot came down on his hand. 

"You dare to delay my purpose?" the man snarled. His voice, too, was plain evidence of an aristocratic upbringing. "You do not know what you are facing." 

"And you, it is clear, cannot tell right from wrong. I swear to you, sir, you will be punished for your vile—" 

Before Adam could finish, the man had jumped to his feet, a bloodstained flick knife visible in his left hand, and lashed out at Adam with icy murder in his eyes. Adam, no less coldly, sidestepped and brought up the point of his own blade. Hemmed-in by the railings at the edge of the balcony, the villain lurched forwards. With a croaking gurgle, he collapsed, the tip of the swordstick now protruding from his back. 

Without another moment's thought, Adam ran back along the corridor to where the bag-snatcher had committed his last and most dreadful crime. The door was still open; Adam stepped across the threshold and looked down at the waitress. She was lying on her back, her face chalk-white; a glistening red stain was spreading across the front of her uniform. At the sight of Adam, her lips moved, but no sound came out. 

Hearing rapid footsteps behind him, Adam turned. The woman whose handbag had been stolen had finally caught up. 

"What happened?" she asked, in a strong Liverpool accent. She scooped up her stolen property. "Did he..." For the first time, she looked past Adam and saw the supine figure beyond. "Oh, my God." 

Adam winced at the casual use of her Maker's name, but decided this was hardly the time to correct her. 

"Young lady," he said, trying to lead her away from the door. "This sight is not suitable for your eyes." 

Whatever answer the woman might have made, she broke off at the sound of a faint groan from the fallen waitress. She and Adam hastily knelt, one each side of the woman. 

"Got... your handbag back," the waitress murmured. "Important. Got to have it." 

Adam took the waitress's chilly hand in his own, and looked up at the woman in blue. 

"Miss... I'm afraid we have not been introduced. But you must fetch whatever medical assistance you can. At once!" 

"Got it," the woman said, and left at a run. Adam returned his attention to the waitress, but it was clear that there was little he could do for her. At best he could try to staunch the bleeding, but it was like trying to defend a sandcastle as the tide swept in. 

"She got her bag back, didn't she?" the waitress repeated. 

"Yes, she did." 

The waitress sighed with relief. "Got to have a bag," she said. "Mirror in the bag. She'll need it. And the Doctor." 

"A doctor's coming," Adam assured her. 

"The Doctor. Always the Doctor." She closed her eyes. "Sometimes I think I'm everywhere at once. Running to save him. I blew into this world on a leaf..." 

Her reason was doubtless ebbing with her life, Adam decided. If only he could keep her conscious. 

"That blackguard who attacked you," he said. "You seemed to know him. Who was he?" 

She opened an eye. "He's everywhere. So am I. I've got to stop him. I don't know till I see... Great Intelligence. Yetis and cobwebs." 

"Let me assure you, Miss..." 

"Oswin." She smiled, but it was no more than a brief, dying flicker. "Oswin Oswald." 

"Adam Adamant." 

"Nice. Could've been Middlemen with names like that, couldn't we?" She closed her eyes again. 

"Miss Oswald, please. You must remain awake." 

"Don't worry. You can't save me. Saved the world. That's all that counts. Run, you clever boy. And remember..." 

As Oswin Oswald's pulse faded away under his fingers, and her voice fell silent for the last time, the door opened and a nurse hurried in. Behind her, the woman in blue was staring wide-eyed at the scene. Within moments the nurse was beside the body, making what must be a forlorn attempt at resuscitation. Adam led the woman out onto the balcony, and closed the door firmly behind them. 

"She's dead, isn't she?" she asked bluntly. 

"I fear so, young lady." 

"Lady. First time anyone's called me that." The woman wiped her eyes. "Hope they get the bastard who did it." 

"Miss!" Some things were too much even for Adam's self-control. "That is hardly appropriate language." 

"For someone who cuts girls open and leaves them to die?" She shrugged. "You're right, it's too good for him, but I can't think of anything worse right now." 

"And you need have no fear of the villain," Adam reassured her. "I gave him a more than adequate dose of his own medicine. In fact—" 

He turned to look along the balcony. To his considerable amazement, there was no sign of the bag-snatcher, dead or alive — not even a single drop of blood. The only sign that anything untoward had happened was Adam's swordstick, unstained and gleaming, lying quietly on the carpet. 

"Impossible!" he said. "He cannot have escaped." 

The woman nodded. "We didn't imagine it. I know. I saw him there, blood everywhere." Her features set in a look of determination. "They must've cleared it all up while you weren't looking. The body too." 

"'They?'" Adam repeated. 

"There's a plot going on here. Someone's making people disappear. And I'm going to find out who's behind it all, or my name's not Sam Briggs." 

"Which, presumably, it is." Adam retrieved his swordstick and sheathed it. "Miss Briggs, I urge you strongly not to intervene. If people are disappearing, it is a matter for the police. And I need hardly remind you that this affair has already claimed the life of one young lady." 

"You mean, shut up and leave it all to the men," Miss Briggs retorted. "Stuff that for a game of soldiers." 

How Adam would have answered will never be known, for at that moment the nurse emerged from the office. 

"I'm afraid there was nothing I could do," she said. "She's gone." 

"Thank you, Miss..." 

"Pinto." The nurse seemed to take cognizance of Adam for the first time. "And you must be Adam Adamant." 

Adam bowed. "At your service, miss." 

"I thought I recognised you. I saw your picture in the papers. And there was something else..." She paused in momentary thought. "Got it! There's a message for you to call your valet. Something to do with a Miss Jones needing to be picked up in Middlesbrough?" 

"Middlesbrough!" Adam repeated. He checked his watch. "Even if I were to leave at once, I could not return before tomorrow afternoon at the earliest." He turned back to Miss Briggs. "Please, young lady, whatever suspicions you may entertain, you must take no further action in this matter until I return. By taking any precipitate steps, you will only endanger yourself and others." 

He bowed to them both, and departed in the direction of the nearest telephone booths. 

_Yeah, right,_ Samantha Briggs thought as she watched him depart. _That'll be the day, wack._


End file.
